


To Those Who Love

by pineovercoat



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fairy Tale Curses, M/M, Rescue Missions, Snow Queen Elements, Tags May Change, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineovercoat/pseuds/pineovercoat
Summary: Riku had been to many worlds in his time, but none like this.This was a land of silver and ice and secrets, where the snow coated the trees like sugar- sparkling, pure, and completely illusory. It was a land of old stories and older magic, and somewhere inside of it, Sora was trapped.





	1. the book

**Author's Note:**

> as an add on to that canon typical violence tag, I'll just put... introspection on/discussions of canon typical trauma out there as well?? I mean if you're into this series, you know what you're in for, but I figured I'd just head that off at the pass! 
> 
> loves and kisses and snowdrops to [sirladysketch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch) and julia for their kind read throughs and suggestions and for cheering me on i love u two and i'm so grateful oh gosh ♡

A stone’s throw away from the ruined castle of Hollow Bastion, in the prospering town of Radiant Garden, sitting atop a raised table on a dias in the wizard Merlin’s house, there was a book.

It was an old thing, foiled in silver and foxing at the edges, beautifully bound and lovingly worn. None of these things were particularly noteworthy to Riku- why would they be? As far as he knew, these were the qualities that most books sought after by any wizard worth his title tended to possess, especially Merlin. His cottage was practically a home for wayward books, after all- pretty much his own personal library, if not an incredibly disorganized one.

It wasn’t even the book’s curious tendency towards atmospheric disturbances that had his attention either, no. It _was_ still a little strange to see snow falling indoors, but then, he’d seen sheet music flood towers- this seemed practically par for the course. Really, it could have been any other ancient magical text that Merlin had stumbled across in his travels- just another passion project, and hardly one that required his presence or dubious expertise. But this wasn’t one of Merlin’s run of the mill restorations. Riku wouldn’t be here if it was.

After all, most books didn’t steal his friends.

It wouldn’t be _quite_ right to say that Sora had gone missing, or that it had been exactly three days since Merlin last saw him. In fact, Merlin knew exactly where he was, and if he was to be believed, within the book’s thick parchment pages the question of Sora’s whereabouts was easily answered. His image danced across its folios, framed by words in a script unknown.

And yet, Sora remained imperceptible, lost to him in the swirl of the storm or some other spell. A magical barrier that Merlin had thrown up caught the worst of it, forming something a little like a snowglobe in the center of Merlin’s house. There hadn’t ever been a proper snowfall on the Destiny Islands, but they’d had the toys all the same, sparkling and small, filled with glitter and sandmen on the beach in the thick of it, and little Santa Clauses flying high above, hauling presents on their sleighs. He was reminded of them now, in the way frost spread in spiraling fractals around the thing, how mist issued from it like a puff of breath on a chilly morning. The cooler air hugged the barrier close, swirling lazily as it languished in the comparative warmth of the borough.

It was disarming, almost charming- until he remembered just what it was hiding.

Three days. Three days Sora had been gone, and Riku was only just hearing about it now. At least the issue wasn’t finding him- not exactly, anyway. It was freeing him. But that was nearly impossible when Riku couldn’t even see him, much less what was binding him.

Merlin had been working his magic for about half an hour now, trying to calm the storm. Riku silently tracked the cantankerous old wizard’s looping progress around the dias from the space he’d staked out by the door, holding his peace so Merlin do the same for his own concentration. Muttering to himself as he moved, he flung spells at the thing- looping, arcing ones, twisting and shrieking before they burst through his containing spell, bursting outwards like a firework on impact; direct, no-nonsense ones that reminded Riku of the straightforward burst of energy from Leon’s gunblade; careful, delicate ones that shimmered with light before fading into the ether. None succeeded, and both Merlin’s grumbling and the pocket blizzard only grew louder with each failure.

Riku wanted to bury his head in his hands.

When Merlin had summoned him away from his duties with nothing more than a _‘come as quick as you can',_ he’d expected bad, but nothing quite like this. Thoughts of invisible threats swirled through his head, escalating as time dragged on. He didn’t need an active imagination to jump to any worst case scenarios; life had provided him with more than enough experience. What if this was another trap- another labyrinth within a dream? It didn’t _feel_ likedarkness, though, and he could still feel Sora’s power if he concentrated. That was some comfort, at least.

Merlin muttered what sounded like a curse, and Riku couldn’t help wondering if, given a few years’ time, he’d be more like him when things went this awry- cranky, sure, but mildly inconvenienced at worst. If ‘things’ continued their trend of manifesting as Sora’s safety threatened by strange magics, though, he highly doubted it.

He looked towards the storm, biting his lip. _I’ll be there soon._

Merlin fired off another spell and from within the sphere, a light shined, bright and sudden. The winds settled, the snowfall thinned, and Merlin paused, cocking his head as if to listen. After another moment, he harrumphed grandly, shaking his head at the book like it was nothing more than a silly housecat knocking cups off of counters.

“Oh, was _that_ all? Well, you’re an overparticular thing, aren’t you?” he said. “Fickle, too, warping the wood, even after I went to all the trouble, no sense of decency… oh, what was that spell again? Ah _hah_ , yes, thank you, that should do it!”

With a flourish, the book rose into the air, floating by Riku to trail after the old wizard, the chill of the pages leaving tiny flurries in its wake. Merlin walked as he talked, waltzing around piles of books and stacks of paper, and over them too, sending out little puffs of magic to act as floating stepping stones where the mess was too dense to sidestep so easily.

“Spry, aren’t you?” Riku mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Hm, quite,” Merlin said, sounding distracted. He shoved his sleeves up his arms stiffly, gesturing for Riku to come to his side by the fireplace. Reaching out, he gestured at a mortar and pestle on the hearth. It filled up with dozens of flowers before his eyes- of the many, Riku could only pick out white roses- and a faintly glowing dust, which it then began to grind into a fine powder.

Again, Merlin motioned towards the book. It hovered before them, and Riku looked from it to Merlin, who shook his head. He directed the mortar to the book, where it caught some of the snow falling from its pages. It melted into the mixture, glowing faintly.

“Oh no, no, I didn’t mean you, lad- really, I wouldn’t touch it if I were you. It’s in a fine mood today, there’s no way of knowing what might happen.”

Riku wondered why that wasn’t something he’d taken into consideration when asking Sora for help with it- but then again, he knew better than most how hindsight offered a much clearer picture. He huffed. “You mind telling me what exactly did?”

“Of course, but first-”

He gave a flick of his wrist, and the bowl upended itself, flinging its contents at Riku’s face. It caught him full in the eyes before he could even think about dodging it. He bent double, coughing and spluttering. After several violent sneezes, he finally came up for air, his eyes running freely where he’d gotten the worst of the magic. He wiped at them with his hood and glared at Merlin.

“What was _that_ for?”

“Clarity,” he hummed. “And cleansing. Sorry, my boy, the book’s a bit fastidious. I didn’t think you’d want to wait for me to make a tincture.”

Riku glowered. Fastidious? What was so wrong with his eyes? 

“ _Anyway_ , it was a mistake, young man, a mistake.” Merlin sighed, casting a glance towards the book. “I asked Sora to take a look at it. It was in such a state when I found it, you see, and it’s so very rare, and valuable, and powerful too, oh yes, and he had _such_ success with restoring the _The Hundred Acre Wood,_ you can imagine my shock when I saw _this_ -!”

Magic flew from his spindly fingers, tripping over the pages until at last the book shivered to a stop. With a flourish, he spun the book to face Riku, who was presented with Sora, frozen before a mirror as though bound up in a spider’s web, his eyes an icy, pale blue that looked nothing at all like a clear summer’s sky over water.

The pages beyond lay blank.

“You see,” Merlin said gravely. “I’m afraid he’s-”

“Trapped,” Riku finished, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. He frowned down at the picture and the strange language beneath it. _I can’t trust you to stay out of trouble for a minute, can I?_ He looked back at Merlin. “What can we…?”

“Donald and I tried everything we could think of with the resources we have, but I believe there’s a very special sort of magic at work here,” Merlin said. His thick eyebrows snapped together over his spectacles as he poked and prodded at the pages with little bursts of magic, clearly annoyed at being bested by a book.

Riku was starting to understand the feeling. He reached out, disregarding Merlin’s squawk.

“It’s fine,” he assured him, if a little tersely. He was fairly certain that if the book was going to do something to him, it would have done it already. Ignoring the chill, and Merlin’s warnings, he snapped the thing shut, turning it over to inspect its spine _._ What must have been the title curled across it in the same unfamiliar script and much like the rest of it, offered no answers.

Frustrated, he ran his thumb back and forth over the margins of the paper. It didn’t do much to calm him, but it wasn’t like it really hurt anything either. And besides, it was harmless to hands as calloused as his. Still, though, there was something about the glint of the silver edges that was forbidding, far too reminiscent of the edge of a blade for his liking. A threat lurked in these pages, as hidden as their meaning.

Merlin coughed, loud and completely fake. “The condition...”

“Sorry,” Riku replied automatically, though he didn’t particularly mean it.

“Yes, well.” He folded his arms inside of his long sleeves with a waspish air. “It is a very rare book, you know. Very special. Immeasurably precious.”

Riku’s shoulders tightened. Not more than- He tamped down on the thought before it could take root. Despite his efforts, something must have shown on his face; Merlin’s expression softened into something a bit too much like pity for his liking. He swallowed down the acid rising in his throat.

“Any luck translating it?” Riku tried. As subject changes went, it was one of his more graceful, not that that meant much. It was still a flimsy cover at best. He flicked the book open again, inspecting its contents, but even so occupied by its pages, he could still feel Merlin’s gaze on him, knowing and sad. The combination rankled.

“I’m afraid not, lad,” he said slowly. “But not to worry! Help is never far! Donald and Goofy have already gone to fetch the King- they’re on their way. I’m off to meet them soon. The King and I have a working theory we’d like to test.”

At the mention of Mickey, the knot in Riku’s chest loosened. He’d know what to do, and even if he didn’t, he’d help them find a way. And if not Mickey, then maybe Master Yen Sid… there was no way three of the greatest wizards working wouldn’t figure something out.

Still, though, this was out of the ordinary. Even Merlin had said so. Riku had never gone to visit Pooh Bear in _The Hundred Acre Wood_ himself, but from what Sora told him, it was nothing like this. He dog-earred the page, making sure to mark the place where Sora was trapped, and worked himself up into an anxious, pacing stride, disregarding Merlin’s outraged spluttering in favor of Sora and the sweet melancholy that was fixed on his face. What sort of magic was this...?

“Well! That is quite enough of that!” Merlin snapped, wrenching the book away from him with a flick of his wrist. Riku lurched forward after it, but his hands closed around thin air- too slow. He watched with narrowed eyes as Merlin fussed at the small fold he’d made in the pages, muttering all the while- _hmph, if you can’t treat it with respect!_

Despite his best efforts to smooth the page flat, a crease still remained. Riku chalked that up as a victory, however small.

“Oh, hang it all!” Merlin said, shooting him a dirty look from under his eyebrows. “Keyblade Masters, feh! Mickey was just the same.”

If he meant the comparison to be anything but complimentary, it failed. Something not unlike pride swelled in his chest, pushing him forwards. “You said you have a theory?” Riku prompted, crossing his arms and tucking his hands up into his sleeves. He rubbed them there a bit for the friction; the cold still clung to his fingers. “I’m all ears.”

“Right,” Merlin said, still looking a little sour. “As I was saying, I’ve spoken to the King already, and we’ve agreed that it would seem when he entered the book, he became ensnared by it. It is, after all, a story.”

Silence hung for a moment, weighted with the promise of Merlin’s next words, but after a moment it became obvious that he would not continue.

“I- what?” Riku said incredulously, sprinting past irritation and already well on his way to anger. " _That'_ _s_ all you’ve got? ‘It’s a _story_ ’?

A story. Riku could have throttled the man. Even if he hadn’t intended it, his words dripped with _well-isn’t-it-obvious_ condescension, doing nothing for Riku’s nerves. The image of Sora’s blank eyes swam at the back of his head, bringing back the waking nightmare that had been their own Mark of Mastery examination.

“Can’t you just… ask it?” he said, desperate. “Wasn’t it talking to you earlier?”

“It speaks when it wants to,” Merlin said, pursing his lips. “Right now, it doesn’t want to.”

“Doesn’t _want_ -!” Riku spluttered. “You’re not seriously telling me our best guess is Sora’s stuck in a book with no apparent way out because he _likes_ _it_? He wouldn’t disappear and worry us like that for anything, much less for whatever _this_ garbage is-” He waved his hand angrily at the book. “You’ve got to be _joking_ -”  

Merlin’s eyebrows climbed his face and just like that Riku deflated, abruptly ashamed of himself. His outburst was hardly behavior representative of… whoever he was supposed to be now. _Master_. The mantle sat awkwardly, a weight he was still learning how to carry.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, then let it out with a whoosh. There was no sense in taking it out on Merlin, or even, for that matter, the book itself, tempting though it was. He bowed his head. “Sorry.”

“Oh nonsense, boy, nonsense, I get worse from Archimedes. You know, I do believe he’d like you.” Merlin smiled at him kindly.

Flustered, Riku opened his mouth to continue, but Merlin flapped a hand at him to show all was forgiven and already forgotten and turned his attention back to the book. His nose, practically brushing against the paper, was already turning pink from the cold. “But no, no, I need you to think a little more _literally_ , my boy. You see, Riku, the King and I believe that Sora has rather confused the book.”

“Confused… the book?”

Merlin nodded. “It’s an old thing, and you know how we get about our routines. Change can be awfully inconvenient, and this book is quite used to telling its story with the usual players. His appearance within it has likely thrown it for a loop- it looks to me as if he’s been incorporated into the existing tale, although, of course, his presence will have changed events some... Nonetheless, it seems determined to see him through to a conclusion.”

“I get it,” Riku interrupted, an uncomfortable prickle starting up at the back of his neck. “It’s making him play a part.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. If _he_ was tired of Sora being treated like a puppet, he could only imagine how Sora himself felt.

“Indeed!” Merlin hummed, on the move again, his mustache and beard dancing as he spoke. He looked pointedly at Riku over the rim of his spectacles. “Ensnared, wouldn’t you say? Hm. It would help if I could _read_ the blasted thing myself, but I think, really, that the book just wants to finish its story. It means no real harm- it just wants to be complete.”

Riku swallowed roughly.

The thought of Roxas and the Organization brought on sorrow and guilt in waves. He let them come, let himself remember the rockier portions of the path he’d walked and the aftermath of the more difficult decisions he’d been forced to make. He followed the push-pull of that particular tide until it calmed, gathering it all up into a fist, and then, swallowing heavily, he shook out his hand and let it go.

Complete- he was no stranger to the sentiment. Well, he supposed he couldn’t begrudge the book for that. Not really.

Merlin’s hand settled on his shoulder.

“It all looks a bit grim right now, but I’m sure he’ll figure out the next part soon,” he reassured him, his voice carefully confident. “He’ll help the book with its wish, and he’ll have us all to help him on the outside. I really wouldn’t worry, my boy- these sorts of stories do like their happy endings.”

Riku frowned.

Sitting around and hoping that Merlin was right itched at the very core of who he was, but what else could he do? Though he was officially a Keyblade Master now, it was hardly a secret that magical scholarship wasn’t exactly his focus. And even if his life felt like a fairytale more often than not, he was no expert on those, either.

He glanced down at the cover, shimmering faintly in the dim light. “If you say so.”

“Right you are, lad!” Merlin gave his shoulder a warm, grandfatherly pat. “See, it’s not so bad.”

\--

On second thought, Riku mused, waiting was a trial far more punishing than anything even Castle Oblivion and its denizens could have ever devised.

He sat with his hands tucked under his thighs, too anxious to rightfully be bored; Merlin read, presumably doing research, and left Riku to his thoughts.

If he paced, he’d be probably be spelled back into his chair, if he asked yet again if there was anyway to help or anything he could do, Merlin would surely snap, and if he so much as glanced at the book one more time, he was certain he’d end up hexed for his trouble, Keyblade Master or not. There was the option of training, practicing his forms against Merlin’s enchanted furniture, but his anger had mostly burned out and Riku thought better of testing the wizard’s patience any further.

Leaving wasn’t an option. The notion of running into Leon or Yuffie or Aerith or basically anyone without Sora or Kairi or the King as a buffer was daunting to say the least, and would be a disaster at best. _Hey, remember the witch who tried to take your castle and overran your world with Heartless? I used to run with her crowd. I was fifteen and jealous- oh, of your friend Sora, actually! He’s my friend, too, even though I maybe tried to kill him back then. I guess I have impulse issues. We’re good now. Oh, also, the guy who destroyed your world in the first place? I let him into my heart and ended up possessed. We, uh… we have some similarities that I’m still grappling with. It’s a work in progress. Speaking of, the restoration looks great?_

Like that would go over well.

But the restoration had done wonders, true enough. The transformation was nothing short of amazing. Radiant Garden was downright charming, with all sorts of shops and cobbled streets and winding alleys and mysteries to uncover within. It was the exact kind of place he’d dreamt of exploring as a child. Warm and welcoming, it couldn’t be more removed from the doom and gloom of the castle that had been his home and also, just a little bit, his prison.

Except in the only way that counted.

Hollow Bastion loomed in the distance, shored up with support beams, its once collapsing spires surrounded by cranes and scaffolding and all the assorted detritus of new construction. To the survivors, the people rebuilding a life here, reclaiming their home, it served as a testament to the trials this world and its people had faced and ultimately overcome. Riku couldn’t help seeing it as monument to his own mistakes. _This is your history. Don’t let it repeat._

At least here, inside of Merlin’s home, all brick and warm hearth and the scent of tea fragrant with bergamot, the past seemed worlds away, rather than just beyond the threshold.

_One thing at a time_ , he reminded himself. _Stay here, and now. Sora needs you._

Half the evening passed in anxious, unproductive silence, and daylight saw the sun sinking into the horizon without either of them receiving any updates on the King’s progress. Which was why when he heard the whir of a ship’s engines overhead, Riku sat up immediately, catching Merlin’s eyes from across the room. He sprang to his feet.

“The King-!”

Merlin shook his head. “Oh, sit down, sit down, go get yourself another cup of tea.”

“Which one,” Riku gritted out. “I can’t do both.”

Merlin snorted, waving a hand in his direction. Riku’s chair gave an awful creak, his only warning before it jolted forward, hitting him in the back of the knees and forcing him to sit down again. As he struggled to right himself, a tea set flew in front of him, clattering in a way that felt more than a little bit threatening. It poured out a fresh cup and waited in pointed silence as Merlin and Riku stared at each other. Merlin’s eyebrows lifted. A single cube of sugar plopped into the gently steaming liquid.

Riku accepted the cup, recognizing defeat.

Satisfied, Merlin stood. “I’ll just pop by the hangar and check. If it is the King, I’ll bring him back here faster than walking. You just wait here, and don’t touch anything.” He cast an eye towards the book. “I can’t be sure, but I don’t think it much likes you.”

Riku pretended to focus intently on his tea, looking at neither the book nor the wizard. “Trust me,” he said, settling further into the chair and blowing over his cup. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“Yes, well.” And with a hum and a puff of white smoke, Merlin was gone.

Riku waited until he was sure that he wouldn’t come poofing back in for a want of wand or a satchel or whatever else he might have forgotten. He gave it about five seconds before setting his cup down and moving to close the distance between himself and the book’s resting place on the table. Merlin had already demonstrated that a peek wouldn’t do much of anything, especially not help, so it followed that it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Besides, he needed to see Sora again.

Riku took a steadying breath, brushed the frost from the front of the book, and flipped it open to its first page.

To his relief and also his dismay, he found Sora immediately. On this page, he was wandering through a snowy wood, cheerful and wide eyed and curious. On the next, his hands were curled over snow-laden branches as he pushed them aside. Even though it was just paper, it captured so much of his joyful spirit that Riku couldn’t help the answering pang in his heart.

“Sora… I’m gonna get you out of there,” Riku promised, tracing over the page. “I’m gonna find a way to help you. I’m gonna save you, I swear. Just hang in there, okay?”

He’d barely finished speaking when the paragraphs of foreign script under his fingers began to shiver. Riku startled, but the book held tight to his skin, stuck fast in his grip the way frost clung to glass. Before his eyes, the text collapsed into ink, swirling like clouds below the paper’s surface until it rearranged into script he could read. He mouthed the words to himself, following the lines of rhyme with his finger.

_“Once upon a time, on an island small,_  
_there lived a boy with a heart like a hearth,_  
_warm and kind, a sanctuary to all._  
  
_In service of the light, with key in hand,_  
_hurled far from the shores he had known since birth,_  
_he bore greater hurts than most could withstand.”_

As he spoke, a breeze kicked up around him, dragging pieces of his hair into his eyes. He blew them away with an irritated huff, and was surprised to see clouds of his breath blow with them. It seemed like the book was taunting him, trying to call his bluff or to scare him off.

Whatever, he thought. It could _try_. The magic was strong, but Riku refused to let something as ridiculous as a little defensive enchantment stop him- not when he’d made it this far, not when he’d made a promise. Not when Sora was in danger.

As if rising to his challenge, the wind grew stronger, whipping his hair across his face now, and bringing with it furious snows and stinging cold, until Riku’s teeth chattered, until his eyes and nose ran-

_“Roaming far and wide, he carried that weight,_  
_shouldered the darkness whenever fear struck,_  
_let his heart be his key, guided by fate.”_

He dragged a glove across his face and found fully formed icicles. They broke, shattering where they fell, and the room in the air snapped in the wake of the sound. At his feet, the fractured pieces grew, spreading out to form a thin sheet of ice that covered the room, floor to ceiling, sweeping him backwards with the violence of its force. When he recovered, he found himself in the center of a blizzard, Merlin’s house unrecognizable around him. And still the wind whirled, pulling his voice into the storm without his will or consent, the words ripped from his throat not unlike the last autumn leaf from a stripped-bare branch.

_“But doubt, buried deep, takes root and does grow-_  
_and so, this young man, through dest’ny or luck,_  
_dove into a land of ice and of snow…”_

Even as he struggled, he felt himself getting colder, and colder, and bone tired. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to rest now, right here, would it? It would be warm, soon enough, and safe… all he would have to do was lay down, close his eyes, and sleep...

The book slipped from his hands, falling open on its spine, and he listed forward, tumbling headfirst into white.


	2. the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh shit SUP
> 
> My hope is that if you aren’t familiar with the Snow Queen that this should still read and make sense. For me, KH is at its most charming when it adapts and reflects the story of its original characters to the Disney worlds rather than just an inserted ride-along, and I hope this evokes some of the same feeling! 
> 
>  I was gonna say something else Pithy and Humorous about how I’m gonna meet my boy Hans C. Anderson (henceforth known as HCA) outside the denny’s parking lot at 3am bc omg does he ever shut up and get to the point? But then I realized, oh wait, I don’t either. maybe we should like, get a beer instead? (closing timeeee, you don’t have to go home but you can’t. stay. hereeee.) read and took notes on the original, as well as the Dark Tales graphic novel adaptation for this

Waking was easy. Riku startled into consciousness like he’d crashed into it.

Rising, however, was not.

He slammed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the blinding white of the sky above him. Everything was too bright, too sharp, and too harsh all at once, leaving him gasping at the intensity of the ache in his head. With another breath, he realized it wasn’t just his head- there were steady pulses of pain shooting all throughout his body, from his crown to his half-numb toes.

Every inch of him felt stiff, sore, and a bit broken, like he'd taken a hard tumble or lost a particularly difficult fight. Riku couldn’t tell if it was made better or worse by the cold all around him- regardless, this probably wasn’t what anyone meant by icing a sprain. Hissing through his teeth, he laid back and counted backwards from ten, until the feeling dulled into something more far bearable, muted and muffled, not unlike the subdued sound of the snow falling over everything around him.

Cautious, he cracked one eye open. He shaded his eyes with a hand, this time allowing for the few seconds it would take to adjust to the light. Snow, everywhere. It figured. There was even a fine dusting over him, like he’d been laying where he was for some time. Mustering up his strength, he heaved himself upwards, shedding powder like an unwanted layer of clothing. If only. He grimaced as he sat up cross-legged in the impression of his own snow angel, collecting himself.

Groaning, he rolled his wrists and feet loose. The cold did absolutely nothing for his new pains, not to mention the old ones- he rubbed his left wrist carefully, whispering healing intent into the skin. He waved the same spell over his forehead and down his body, trailing the brightest flares of restorative green light over his lower back and his legs, and sighed at the instantaneous relief it brought, though the edges of his vision went a little fuzzy.

He shook his head, fighting the sensation- it was dangerous to be so unaware in unfamiliar territory.  Cupping his hands, he took up a broad handful of fresh snow, allowing himself a single moment for pity before shoving his face right into it. The shock of the cold cleared his head immediately. Gritting his teeth, he scrubbed any lingering grogginess away vigorously. He scooped up another handful to rinse out his mouth, spitting snow-melt at his side. Better.

Refreshed wasn’t the exact word he would use, he thought, as he tucked his hands inside of his jacket, secure beneath his armpits, but he did feel much more alert- he debated the merits of starting a fire as he focused on his surroundings, taking them in with clear eyes and a clear mind.

The landscape was an intensely bright white, flecked in places with the odd splash of wintergreen and brown. The snow fell consistently; thick, fat flakes that accumulated quickly with the blowing wind. It looked like midday, based on the position of the muted circle of the sun, sitting high in the sky, hidden behind thick clouds. Strange, he mused. So it was earlier now than when he'd left...

Riku leapt up in a flurry of movement and powder, knees bent, shoulders back and at the ready. _Merlin!_ he thought, head whipping wildly as he tried to look everywhere at once. _The King!_ They were probably waiting for him, looking for him now, too, because he couldn’t wait five minutes- it all came flooding back to him, like a rush of blood to the head. But Radiant Garden was nowhere in sight, and the last thing he remembered was the book-

The book. There had been some kind of spell- a transportation? He’d been looking for a way to get to Sora-

Riku froze.

The trees, he realized, with a dawning understanding. He knew them. He knew this place, or something like it, because somehow, he was inside of the book, had been pulled inside its pages, just like Sora. But where was he? He wheeled in slow circles, recalling the image of Sora’s hands, pushing branches away carefully- but every tree around him could be an exact replica of the one in the scene. Acid rose in his throat. He squinted past the line of trees surrounding his small clearing, but the forest seemed to sprawl on into eternity beyond it. Every eyeful he took in was the same as the last, and there was no mirror in sight.

He pivoted back to the position he’d started in, curling in on himself as he looked at the expanse. Who knew how long ago Sora had been here, or if this was even the right place- Riku swallowed tightly. And even if it was, the snow and the wind worked together to make sure there was no trail to follow; Riku could barely even see the impression his own body had made in the earth where he’d been laying only minutes before. The snowdrifts around him almost seemed to roll with the whipping winds, like waves in an angry sea, building up to a storm just as vicious as any he’d ever seen.

And there Riku stood, in the midst of it all, his vision tunneling as he stared into endless white.

_Breathe,_ he reminded himself, closing his eyes. _You can’t do a thing for him if you don’t keep calm._ He squeezed his hands into fists, exhaled, and centered himself. He needed a heading, he needed shelter. He wouldn’t find either if he stayed here feeling sorry for himself- just more cold and misery. There was nowhere to go but forward. All that was left was to decide which direction forward would be.

He eyed the trees again, sizing them up- maybe there was one he could climb. He’d be able to see better from the top, he reasoned, as he picked out the likeliest option- a sturdy looking tree with a strong trunk and close branches. With a new perspective, maybe he could find some kind of clue as to his next steps, since the book wasn’t kind enough to provide one. And from there, he could focus on the bigger picture. Find Sora and get out- easy as that, though he knew it would be a lot harder than it sounded. It nearly always was.

"You brought me here," Riku said bitterly, pressing his palm flat against his chosen tree. His complaint didn’t carry far, lost to the wind. He resisted aiming a frustrated kick at the trunk, turning a reproachful look on the sky instead. "You could at least show me _where to go!_ ”

Silence.

Riku sighed, looking speculatively at the treetops again. He bounced lightly from one foot to the next, loosening his stiff muscles as best he could. He chafed his hands together to get the blood flowing through them, muttering warmth into his freezing skin all the while.

“I'd settle for some warm clothes," he gritted out, quieter.

No answer.

It figured.

Jaw clenched against the lingering pain, he bent his knees and jumped, hooking a solid hold on the nearest branch. He hauled himself up, swinging his legs for momentum, and flipped up into the tree, careful of his head. He made quick work of the rest, thankful for the closeness of the branches and for the years of practice he’d had on the islands (and, he had to admit, the boredom that drove him to try). Before long, he was as high as he dared to go. He shoved the branches aside and peeked out over the tops of the trees.

Riku’s heart sank. There was nothing but forest for miles and miles in every direction, dipping and swelling with the rolling terrain, wreathed in clouds of snow.

He leaned his head backwards against the trunk, nodding to himself. Well, at least he could say he tried. Back to the original problem, then- he made a checklist in his head. Get back to ground, pick a direction, and go. He shut his eyes, reaching out for the feeling of warmth that was Sora’s presence- it was there, same as ever, but it was hardly the compass he wanted it to be right now.

He sighed, digging his head into the bark, gritty and unpleasant against his tender scalp. The pain was grounding, honing his concentration back into a sharp focus.

Not too far away, a bird cawed loudly. Riku’s eyes flew open at the sound. Though it was grating, in that moment, it was the most beautiful sound in all the worlds.

His thoughts moved like a current. Seagulls always flocked to where they knew they’d find an easy meal- while this bird didn’t sound like a gull _exactly_ , it was familiar somehow, and anyway, where there were birds, there was usually food, and where there was food, you could count on people.

Unless, of course, _he_ was the meal. He set the thought aside with a grimace. He wasn’t dead just yet.

He leaned forward, a cautious arm anchoring him to his branch, and turned his ears to the sound. The bird cried again, somewhere ahead and to his right, and through the falling flakes, he thought he spotted a small dot of black. As he craned his head, something else caught his eye through the swirling snow, something he’d missed before in his haste-there was  a darker plume of misting air in the distance. Smoke. He leaned a little closer. Dark smoke. Fire.

_Fire!_ Riku realized with a thrill. It was a start. It was better than a start! Hope sparked in his chest. He took steady hold of the branch at his side and began his descent, keeping the orientation of the tree to the smoke fixed in his mind all the while. Clouds of snow burst up around his legs as he hopped cheerfully to the earth, his feet on solid ground once more.

Up ahead, the bird cried again. Assured of his heading, Riku pressed forward. After a moment’s struggle with the snow, he decided some magic was worth the energy. He summoned his keyblade to his hand, whispering a silent incantation to the blade. Fire leapt from its end like a loosed arrow, as quiet as his voice, blazing a path open before him that was several yards long and just wide enough across for him to walk.

A short distance away, a small, bright spot of color flared silver-blue in the endless white, almost as if it was answering his spell. No, no that, Riku realized, squinting- _reflecting it_. He moved closer to where he’d seen it amongst the low hanging branches not too far away. Curious, he summoned another flame, and saw it again, like flint striking.

It was something metal- small, but catching the blue light of the fire brilliantly all the same. He narrowed his eyes, and spotted a length of cloth snapping erratically in the wind, accented by that a faint metallic sparkle. Riku trudged forward to pluck it from the branch it was snagged on, finding more than half a foot of bright yellow leather, with a gleaming silver buckle dangling from its end.

With a thrill, Riku realized he recognized it, because it was the strap from Sora’s gloves. The little painted vignette of Sora pushing aside branches with an open, curious smile on his face came to mind again, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If Sora had torn his glove heading this way, then that most likely meant he’d thought to find people first as well- and that meant that he was on the right path, too. Riku wrapped his fingers around the buckle, warming the cold silver, and brought it to his lips.

“I’m coming, Sora,” he whispered, pressing the words against it like a promise.

The wind picked up, pushing at his back insistently. That was hint enough for him. One request answered- though he still wouldn’t have minded a coat and gloves.

He wound the length of leather around his wrist, looped it securely through the buckle, and began to walk.

\--

The snow drifts were at least calf height and growing steadily higher even as the storm grew more furious. Riku had given up on fire magic after the first fifteen minutes of strugging in favor of keeping up a reflecting barrier, which plowed through the snow just as easily and kept out enough of the chill that he was satisfied. Exhausted as he was, he didn’t think he could focus on maintaining a flame and the shield at the same time, and anyway, he was warm enough from exertion- he’d been on a steady incline for some time as picked his way through the woods. It also occurred to him that telegraphing his movements with what amounted to flares of light didn’t rank amongst the greatest ideas he’d ever had, though he did sorely miss the fire.

Idly, he wondered if it was the same in the book as in the real world, if it was safe to work up a sweat so tired and underdressed, or if he’d get sick- he certainly experienced all the same sensations in the book as he did in the real world. That could mean trouble- he didn’t want to be waylaid by anything, much less a cold. He supposed he’d find out in time, though the idea of waiting, of distance, of time lost- it rankled in ways that kept him marching forward determinedly towards whatever lay ahead.

And then, there was the bird was at his back- his constant, noisy companion.

It shrieked overhead again, the sound of its cry piercing. The thing had been his shadow for some time. About an hour now, Riku guessed, though it was hard to tell. Sometime after he’d quit using his dark fire, it had circled to follow him, and proceeded to cry out at irregular intervals. For friends, maybe, or to frighten him into dropping dead- either way, it wasn’t working. They were alone, and Riku was still alive, and as each minute passed, it became harder and harder for him to remember ever being grateful for the sound of its call. The sound dug under his skin, and deep into his ears, turning his hopeful excitement into acidic annoyance.  

The irritation was doubled simply because he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being followed. Not just by the bird, but by whatever (or whoever, if Riku’s sneaking suspicion proved true), had put it up to the task of tailing him. Every glance through the treeline played another trick on his eyes- was it just a gale, or was it movement? Was that pale white skin he saw, wrapped in furs, or just some forest creature, spotted through a swaying branch? Was the glittering light simply ice, or the shine of intelligent eyes following him, tracking his progress?

He stopped, staring intently at the latest spot he’d seen shift in his periphery. It was gone now, melting back into the landscape like a shadow. Whatever it was hadn’t been natural, but, frustratingly enough, it didn’t feel like _darkness_ , either. At least, not in the same way- it had none of the sulfur, none of the viscous, unguent feeling, like he could be sucked in and consumed and covered by it, and no one would ever be the wiser. It was just… strange.

This whole world was like that- odd enough to dig under his skin, even though there was nothing that was identifiably wrong. Maybe it _would_ be best for him to finally go and investigate- whatever started that fire could wait. It was only a short detour. Riku bit his lip, moving away from the path.

Right on cue, the bird cried.

“Don’t you _ever_ shut up?” he muttered, glaring darkly up into the trees.

Black wings circled idly above him, dipping and swaying through the branches. He raised his left hand above his head, shielding his eyes so he could track its movement. Sora’s silver buckle threw a glare in the dying light- the bird squawked again, almost as if in defiance of his complaint.

Riku snorted. “No, of course not.”

“That’s a pretty thing,” it croaked, cutting a close, swooping pass to land on a low branch just in front of him.

Riku blinked hard, then shook his head. Really, he thought, he shouldn’t have been surprised to discover it could talk back. After all, he’d wanted so badly for it to be quiet. Just his luck, but what else was new?

Pitch black eyes glinted over the cord and buckle tied around his wrist- at least they weren’t yellow, Riku thought grimly. Still, he curled his left hand against his chest. The silver buckle caught the light again, and the bird’s head followed, curious, jittering. Familiar.

Like a raven, Riku thought, suspicions confirmed. Adrenaline flooded his veins. But there was no way _she_ could be here, was there? There wasn’t a whole lot that seemed impossible anymore.

Riku moved his right leg backwards, muscle memory working in step with the adrenaline coursing through his blood. He slid into his fighting stance easily, aiming the point of his keyblade at the bird. It hopped backwards along its branch, moving in short, cautious bursts.

Eyes narrowed, he addressed it.

“Do I know you?”

The bird cackled. Riku brought his left hand forward in the guard position.

“Maybe,” it said, once it had settled, flapping its wings once, then twice, before settling just outside of the keyblade’s reach. “Or maybe not. Not yet.”

“I’m happy to keep it that way,” he said, low. He put one foot in front of the other, creeping closer to close the distance between blade and bird. Between the shadows he’d seen and its pursuit of him, this was no coincidence. He looked around, considering his options- if it flew, he could pull it down with another spell, or knock it off its course. It was too much to hope he’d lose it entirely, but he could show it the cost of crossing him.

“How rude,” the bird cried, jumping from one branch to another, circling. “And all this time, I was keeping you from wandering into danger.”

Another distraction. Riku set his jaw. He held the direction of his path fixed in his mind even as he pivoted to keep the bird in his sight, left foot crossing behind right in his own steadily spinning circle.

"I’m not so sure,” he said softly, assessing. He kept his blade up, crossed in front of his body, and held his spells even closer, just behind his teeth. “I think maybe you were herding me towards it.”

“My, you’re a suspicious one.”

The hair on the back of his neck rose. “The last raven I met was working with a witch," he hissed, already done with these games. “I think you’re him, and I want to know what you want from me already.” _Diablo_ , Riku thought to himself, but didn’t dare say it aloud- who knew if the same rules applied to the bird’s powers as to his mistress, Maleficent.

"I’m not a _raven_ , I’m a _crow,_ " the bird said, its chest feathers fluffing out proudly. "Your memory is bad. We look _very_ different. Sound very different, too. And we're terribly smart, you know. She should be so lucky.” It hopped forwards. “‘Was working’, you said. I imagine no more? Does she pay well? Does she have need of a new retainer?”

“She was evil,” Riku said, flat, as he searched the bird’s eyes. Glossy black reflected back, revealing nothing. He lowered his blade a touch anyway, suspicions fading. It was nuisance, to be sure, but it didn’t seem like a real threat.

As if sensing the opening, the crow danced down its branch towards him. “Evil, oh? That’s interesting. And how came _you_ by this witch?”

Riku breathed out a puff of air. Clever thing- or tricky. It was probably for the best not to give the thing much more of his time. “Nevermind that.”

It clucked its tongue. “Books and covers, books and covers.”

Riku glanced at it sharply. “Interesting choice of words.”

“I have many to choose from!” the crow preened, looking about as satisfied as a bird could.

Nothing more than a mouthy showoff. Riku relaxed. He knew a few people like that. If that was the worst the book could throw at him, it would have to do better.

“You seem lost.”

“I’m not,” Riku answered shortly, attention already back on the path. Straight ahead, in the direction of his past footsteps.

“Oh, sure. But in case you are, I can help you, if you like?” the bird offered, tilting its head. “Only, I have a favor to ask first."

He frowned. “Of course you do. Think I’ll pass.”

It opened its beak again, but Riku lifted his left hand in a dismissive wave.

Blade aloft and barrier in place, he stepped back into his own bootprints, and searched through the thinning treeline ahead. He spied swift moving silver- water! Another, harder look told him there was little brook not too far away, cutting the earth in half. Chunks of ice floated down it- it had some current, Riku observed. He had to be careful crossing it.

He strained his eyes. Further down, what looked like a small wooden bridge crossed over the water. Charming- but more importantly, useful. Where there were roads and crossings, there were people, and sure enough, there was a trail leading from the bridge, the snow coating it disturbed and a little muddy with what had to be bootprints. He couldn’t be far from the rising smoke he’d seen now- and better than a single house, it was probably an entire village.

On the edges of his vision, he saw the crow lift a foot to test a claw against his barrier spell. It pricked at Riku’s awareness, like a string being plucked, or a fly jostling a spider’s web. He shivered, turning his attention back to his unwanted companion. It just didn’t quit, did it?

“There’s someone I’m looking for,” the crow said expectantly, cocking its head at him. “Two someones, really.”

“I guess there must be something in the water,” he muttered, mouth twisting. He’d go, he decided, and see if he could find clothes, and ask the people there if Sora had passed through. With any luck, he’d still be there, or people would have at least taken notice of him, as underdressed as he was for the weather. For his part, he was sure he’d stick out like a sore thumb-

“Ah, you too then? Perhaps we could help each other-"

“Perhaps _not_.” Riku levelled a look at the crow. Maybe it wasn’t a threat on its own, but it definitely had its own agenda, and he wasn’t interested in it. “You’re pretty insistent on helping me, but only if I help you first. You’ve been here from the start. You know I’m looking for something too.”

The crow flapped its wings tersely- Riku had the feeling that if it had arms to cross, it would.

“Maybe you aren’t working for the witch, but you _are_ trying to distract me,” Riku decided. How much time had he wasted talking to the bird already? “It won’t work.”

It cocked its head, clucking. “I’m not sure I like you, friend.”

Riku snorted. That was no great loss. The village was ahead, he reminded himself- he could leave this nonsense behind. He pulled his keyblade back and held it steady at his side.

“We’re on the same page, _friend_.” He strode past the crow, making for the bridge. “Do whatever you like, but if you’ll excuse me, I have to be on my way.”

“Oh! ‘If you’ll excuse me’!” the crow called after him, in a perfect imitation of his own voice, laughing raucously. “Now he remembers his manners!”

The echoes of that laughter- _‘excuse me, excuse me, ha ha ha!’_ \- followed him all the way through the wood, across the bridge, and up the ascending trail that became the path to the village, though, for the time being, it seemed the crow did not.

\--

 

The day was growing dark by the time the first houses came into view, nestled in a small valley below.

It was a quaint looking hamlet, twinkling with golden lights, set against a great range of mountains rising in the near-distance. Tall and gray and snow-capped, as grand as anything he’d ever seen- he stopped short, taking in an shocked breath at the sight of them. They were like sleeping giants, and with the way the clouds swirled around them as they swelled up into the sky, it was almost like they were breathing, too.

No one on the islands would ever believe me, Riku thought, exhaling awe. If he had the time, he felt like he could have stood there all day, encased in his own little snowglobe, and never had his fill of the sight. But as much as he would have liked to, there were more important things to take care of first.

Cautious, Riku scanned the road ahead for any fellow travellers. Mickey and Yen Sid’s repeated warnings about protecting world order leapt to mind, as much a part of his training as any keyblade forms or spell casting. He dismissed his keyblade and his barrier and any other traces of magic that still hung around him, though he sorely regretted it only moments later.

It didn’t take long for the cold to seep into his skin so thoroughly that, dramatic as it was, it was like he’d forgotten what it ever felt like to be warm. It had been the same, when he’d gone to the mountains to see what the Organization was planning, and to warn the Emperor- but his brief sparring with Sora had been enough to remind him of lazy summer days, then.

With the wind at his back pushing him forward, he pressed on, shivering all the while. The walking path was a narrow zig zag, carved across the hill’s breadth as it descended into the village. Following its dips and curves into the valley, Riku noticed there wasn’t a single person outside in the village below. Smarter people than him, he thought drolly, envisioning their fireplaces and warm hearths with some envy. There was no one on the path the whole way down the steep hill that sloped into the village either, but even so, Riku refused to risk using any more visible magic- not until he knew it was safe to do so.

He arrived at the base of the hill about a half an hour later, kept upright by the occasional healing spell and sheer determination, to find himself greeted by a tall wooden post. There was a sign affixed to it, with strange letters hand-carved into its surface, their hollows dusted with white- the name of the village, Riku guessed, though he had no idea how to go about breaking the foreign alphabet down into sounds that made up any sort of word. He reached up to touch it- _for good luck_ , a voice inside of him insisted, then stepped out of the outskirts and into the village proper, folded into his core for warmth.

There was a pair of houses on the fringes of the greater cluster that made up the village that caught his eye immediately. They were connected at the roof by a small walkway, covered with looked like empty flower boxes- dead now, but sure to bloom come warmer days. Plumes of smoke rose from the chimney nearest to Riku, swirling as they rose into the sky, and flickering golden light poured from the windows- that must have been the fire he saw, he realized, all the way back in the woods. It was a beautiful little scene, like something out of a story.

Riku staggered towards the door, almost as if he were being pulled there by some greater force. He tugged at the sensation, suspicious, but something inside of him, some greater intuition said- _Here._ _This is right, go here._

He followed the feeling, up the walkway, through the yard, and up to the plain, worn door. Raising a stiff, half-numb hand, he knocked three times with the heel of his palm, and a young boy opened the door not a moment later, peering up at him curiously from the golden threshold, curling hair sticking wildly out from underneath a woolen cap.

Riku froze, the words stuck in his throat. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been some kid. His hand fell through the dead air where the door had been, coming to rest at his side.

“I’m-” he began, interrupted by a cough. “Excuse me, I-”

“Grandmother,” the boy interrupted, speaking solemnly, though his eyes glimmered with mischief. “There is a _wraith_ at the door.”

“What are you on about now, silly boy,” a voice answered, from somewhere outside of Riku’s line of view. It sounded like an older woman speaking, her voice thready with age, but not at all frail. “If you are playing tricks again-”

“I am not! He is a wraith, you should see! Even his hair is as white as a ghost’s!”

“That isn’t real,” a younger voice chimed in as well- a girl’s.

Riku blinked, overwhelmed at the sudden hustle and bustle, the weaving and interplaying of voices and sounds. He wrapped his arms around himself, as though to guard himself from it all.

“Yes it is,” the boy answered, wandering away from the open door as an older woman- the first voice, then- stepped into the frame. She stood as tall as Riku’s own shoulders, though her puff of wispy white hair, proud as a crown, made her taller, and her face was warm and lined with the evidence of many, many smiles worn throughout a life long lived.

“A wandering snow wraith,” the boy went on, scampering towards the little girl, who Riku could see now, racing towards her friend as he went on, arms gesturing widely- “it’s true, I saw it in my geography books-”

“No you didn’t,” she said, stomping a foot, though she looked at Riku fearfully all the same. He waved at her tentatively, and she seemed heartened by it, rounding once again on the boy. “What geography book says _anything_ about that-”

“You’re just angry that I know my times tables better-”

“Oh- oh, _you-_! Always telling such stories-!”

“He is full of them,” the woman tutted, flapping the fringed ends of her scarf at the children. “My grandson,” she explained, nodding absently at Riku. “Pardon his silliness. Hush, child, you will frighten Gerda, and annoy our friend.”

“I’m… not a wraith,” Riku interjected softly, faltering, though he did feel like it was possible that he was half-ghost- not just for the miserable cold, but also for how much he felt like a fly on the wall of this lively household he’d stumbled upon, a nuisance and a bad omen besides. If was probably best for him to move on quickly, and not trouble them any further, though that strange, tugging feeling in his heart told him otherwise. “But I am looking for directions. If you could point me to an inn, or a shop- somewhere I can get out of the cold-”

“Outside!” she cried, aghast, her eyes going wide as her full attention shifted from the children to Riku’s sorry, sniffling state. “In this storm! And dressed like that! Ignore Kay. Please, come in, sit by the fire.”

“That’s alright,” Riku said, stepping back, away from the light. “If you could just tell me where to go-”

“Oh no, no, nonsense. I won’t send you back out into that, not until it’s passed! Come inside!”

“That’s very kind of you, but not necessary-”

“I _insist_.” She reached out to hook his elbow in her own, steering him with surprising force into the golden warmth of the house. “Why, you’re as cold as ice!”

“I don’t want to intrude,” he argued weakly, even as his teeth chattered. “It’s just, this was the first house I saw, and-”

“Sit, sit,” she said impatiently, and offered him a blanket, then quickly changed her mind and threw it over his shoulders for him, adjusting it until it lay just so. He rocked on his heels, grimacing even as he thanked her. The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as she pushed him by the shoulders into a chair by the hearth, far from the windows. “Warm yourself by the fire,” she instructed, her tone brooking no argument.

Behind him, the little boy snickered, until his grandmother conscripted him into bringing out a tray laden with slices of cakes and bread. He set it down with an impatient frown, apparently totally uninterested in their visiting wraith now that he’d turned a evening playing into one that required chores.

“Eat up now, Kay. You can play after you’ve finished. I’ll bring you your favorite toy if you do,” she promised. He brightened immediately, nicking a fair few slices for himself and his friend. “Do you take tea, young man?”

“Oh, I- sure.” Tea, Riku thought numbly. What was it with people and tea?

She nodded, brushing off his hesitation, and bustled off into the kitchen to boil water.

It was a small cottage- a family room to the right of the door, with two small chairs, a coffee table, and a rug before a fireplace that flickered brightly. On the left, a small dining table sat just outside of a cozy kitchen, its walls lined with pots and glass jars of various spices. There was even an oven- the kind that took coal. Riku could see a hallway beyond, where stairs rose up into what had to be the living quarters- all in all, comfortable, warm, and suffused with light. He sunk into his chair, feeling small in the midst of it.

“You should eat, too,” the girl piped up, from her place at the boy’s side, where she was taking her own piece from him. Her hair hung in two thick braids down either side of her ears. She tugged on one as she looked up at him, eyes inquisitive. “It is very good bread. My own grandmother made it herself, earlier today.”

Riku nodded mechanically, reaching out for a slice of the thick, brown bread. It was covered in thin slabs of butter, with honey drizzled over top. He took a careful bite, and flavor burst over his tongue.

“Tell her it’s very good,” he said, after another bite. “The best I’ve had.”

She favored him with a delighted smile, as though the compliment to her grandmother was for her as well. “I will! Thank you! Also, excuse me, but why is your hair that color?”

“Come _on,_ ” the boy said impatiently, tugging on her wrist. “Forget his hair- the sooner you finish eating, the sooner we can play!”

She went wide-eyed, and just like that, it was like Riku hardly mattered to them at all, forgotten in favor of wolfing down their food. That was fine by him. He drew himself close, chewing slowly on his slice of bread. Now that he finally had a moment to think, the barrage of kind gestures bore down on him, like the weight of the heavy blanket over his shoulders, anchoring him to his seat. He’d much rather have wrapped himself up in the thing and gone back out immediately on his search; he stared wistfully at the door. Funny how he’d hated being on the other side of it only minutes ago.

But it _was_ good to be out of the storm, and maybe these people would know something that could help him. He could handle feeling out of place, and a little bit like an overgrown wet dog, dripping all over the floor and dirtying the furniture. For a little while, at least. He sighed, sinking deeper into his chair.

With a merry hum, the old woman returned from the kitchen, bearing another tray. She made a stop by the children first, giving them their own tea and a small, folded up rag as well. Then, she laid the tray down on the little table between her chair and Riku’s, plucked the remaining mug from it, pressing it into Riku’s hands, and settled back into her own cushioned rocking chair.

“Better?” she prompted.

He wrapped his palms around the mug until his fingers interlocked, murmuring his assent.

The two children scurried past them with their mugs and rag to take up places by the window, staring out at the falling snow. Curious, he watched as they played, unfolding the cloth to reveal several round coins. They took turns pressing the hot pennies to the windowpane and peering through the little peepholes they made in the frosted glass, laughing at the things they imagined, wandering out in the swirling white, steadily made gray by nightfall.

Riku’s heart crimped. It was a little bit different than skipping rocks or watching clouds, sure, but the spirit of the idea was the same.

“Good,” the woman said, cutting through his thoughts. She leaned forward. “Now, tell me, what is a young man doing outside in a storm like that?”

“I’m... looking for someone,” Riku said softly, turning his attention from children’s games back to her.

“This someone must be very important,” she observed, a wispy eyebrow lifting delicately as she cut a glance at the window.

Riku ran a hand through his snarled hair, biting back his immediate answer. “He’s about my age,” he offered instead, counting his breaths to himself. “Shorter than I am, but probably dressed like me. Brown hair, blue eyes-? He would have been very friendly.”

She hummed, thoughtful. “He sounds like a nice young man.”

“He is,” Riku agreed readily. “His name is Sora. Have you seen him, or has anyone mentioned seeing someone like that...?”

“It all does sound familiar, but… if he is the one I’m thinking of, he passed through here many months ago. Almost a year, during the last of the spring snows.”

The _spring_ snows? “Then it’s wintertime now?” he wondered aloud, his pitch rising with each word. How was that possible?

She looked at him curiously. “Why, yes.” The _‘obviously’_ went unsaid, but Riku heard it anyway. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“I’ve been travelling far, and for a long time,” he hedged, dodging the question. “Looking for him- he left home, and I’m afraid he’s lost, and in danger. You said the last time someone saw him was _months_ ago?”

“Yes,” she said, casting her eyes upwards, as though she were searching for the answer on the ceiling. “It was… in the third month, maybe. A traveller came through, dressed in red and black.”

“The third? What month is it now?”

“The twelfth. He had brown hair, like you said, and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. He wore red and black, and was underdressed, like you.” She looked over him, fondly disapproving in the way that, in Riku’s experience, most grandmothers were. “He took a coat from one of the seamstresses, did good business; will you commission one? It is far too dangerous to be travelling like that, you know- you’ll catch your death.”

Riku pressed his lips together, skirting past the offer. It was far too generous, when he could offer nothing. “That sounds like him, but that can’t be right… I think he got lost in the woods. It had to be recently- I found this not too far outside of town. It’s his.” He raised his left wrist, showing her the yellow strap tied there.

She looked at him pityingly, and he knew what she’d say before she said it- that really, it could have been there for months already. That if he hadn’t found it, it might have been years until someone noticed a scrap of cloth snagged on a tree. But Sora had only been gone three days- could that much time have passed in here, really? And if that was true, Riku wondered, how much time had passed in Radiant Garden already?

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, wondering just how much he should say. This was a book, Riku reminded himself. World order probably didn’t count for much, though you could never be too careful… although, Merlin _had_ said that Sora’s presence in the book changed things. No doubt his own did, too. But would revealing too much ruin even more? Merlin’s voice echoed in his head- ‘ _these sorts of things do like their happy endings_ ’- but there was no happy ending, not with Sora lost in the pages of a book for eternity. It was worth toeing the line.

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I don’t know if you can help me, but I... I think I saw him. It was almost like a-” He struggled for a way to explain. “A dream, I guess. A vision. He was in front of a mirror. He looked frozen, like he was carved from ice.”

Her lips thinned, and her face went tight. Outside, the wind picked up until it howled, screaming against the window panes. The skin between his shoulder blades pricked- he turned to look through the window, the hair on the back of his neck rising, but he saw nothing, not the eyes he was expecting, not even the black feathers of a crow. The children sat away from from glass, eyes wide to the whites at the sudden violence of the wind, voices dropped down to a hush as they whispered amongst themselves.

“I am so sorry,” the woman said, all traces of warm amusement gone from her face now. “There is no sense in trying to find him. He belongs to her now.”

A shiver ran down Riku’s spine.

“ _Her?_ ”

She was silent.

“What do you mean, ‘ _her_ ’?” Riku prompted again, the blanket falling away from his shoulders as he sat forward in his chair.

“It is best to forget what I said,” she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “To forget him, too.”

“I can’t do that,” Riku said firmly, his knuckles going white as he clenched his mug of tea. “Please- who are you talking about? Who is she?”

“I do not know her name,” she whispered, gathering her shawl about her. The fringe slipped over her knuckles, spilling between her spindly fingers. Her eyes darted to the window, fearful, as though she thought she might be overheard. “None live who do. But we call her The Snow Queen.”

The boy and girl were watching them now, attention fixed on their conversation. The little boy quieted, looking up at the pair of them, his eyes focused and intense. Beside him, the girl did the same.

“The Snow Queen?” Riku repeated, matching her whisper. He leaned closer, halfway to standing, the words flying from his mouth as fast as he could think them. “Where can I find her? If she’s a queen, then where’s her kingdom?”

The woman rose to her feet, putting her back to Riku. Her voice trembled when she spoke.

“She lives in a palace in the far north, and brings winter wherever she goes. I do not know where it is.”

She took faltering steps towards the fire. “They say a single one of her kisses is enough to freeze a heart,” she went on, chilling him to his core. “Three will surely bring death.”

With each word, cold seemed to leech in from the outside, no longer held at bay by the fire’s light. It brought the grey and the night and fear with it- the room felt smaller, and the light dimmer, shadows crawling in from the edges to tower over them.

“I’m frightened,” the girl said, her voice sounding out weak from behind them. She wrapped her woolen scarf around her face with shaking hands, until only her eyes and some strands of hair peeked out from behind it. “Even just her name- it chills me to my bones.”

Riku wracked his brain for some small words of comfort that he could offer her, but his mouth was dry, paralyzed by his own fear, and they wouldn’t come. It didn’t matter- the little boy got there first.

“I wish she would come!” he cried, leaping to his feet as he brandished one of his pennies like a sword. In his enthusiasm, it flew from his hand, clinking as it rolled across the floor.

The little girl gasped, hands fisting in her scarf. “No you don’t! Don’t _say_ that!”

“Why not? I mean it,” he cried, placing a hand over his own heart, like he was swearing a vow. “Because I will be strong enough to face her if she does! And then I can show her, she’s no more than snow- and if she ever frightens you again, I shall melt her on the stove!”

Just like that, the dark cloud dissolved. The room was just a room, the night was just night, and the fear went back to the shadows, where it belonged.

She pulled him back down to the floor, hissing reprimands at him between giggles- he looked quite proud of himself, dancing around her as he unspooled the scarf from her head, singing out more tales of the adventures they’d go on and the things they’d see, once he’d melted the Snow Queen into water and taken her sleigh for his own. The stillness and the fear were like a distant memory to them already, and throughout the whole cottage, too, in the wake of their smiles and laughter.

He didn’t envy them it, exactly, but then, it was that easy for him with Sora around, too. He wrapped a hand around his left wrist, the silver buckle warming under his palm.

“He’s a hasty young lad,” the boy’s grandmother said, whispering to Riku even as she smiled at her grandson. She touched the corners of her eyes with her shawl- he politely pretended not to see. “Excitable, to be sure. But very brave, and full of light.”

Easy to be that way, when you had a light to defend. Riku’s lips twitched faintly. “I can tell. Is it alright if I speak to him?”

She nodded, and Riku rose from his chair to wander towards the window, where the little boy was waving the girl’s scarf like a victory banner as she laughed in fits and starts.

“Hey,” Riku interrupted, using the motion of picking up the penny as cover to whisper to the boy. He looked over its rounded edges, pretending to be very interested in its face. “That was a very nice thing you did for your friend.”

“I wasn’t being _nice_ ,” the boy explained, a touch impatiently, like Riku was being stupid. “It’s true. Or, it will be.”

“I guess it will,” Riku agreed, palming the coin. He made a fist, then turned it, opening it flat so he could show him the penny wasn’t in his hand anymore. The boy’s jaw dropped a bit, and he sat up straight, looking at Riku with wonder.

“So.” Riku dropped to a crouch, balanced on the balls of his feet. “You wanna go on adventures? See the world?”

“Yes!” he said. “More than anything.”

_Now where have I heard that before_ , he thought, smiling.

“Have _you_ been on many?” the boy demanded in turn. “Adventures, that is?”

Riku nodded. “Yes.”

“Were they _frightening_?”

Riku nodded again, gravely this time. It didn’t discourage him- the boy nearly toppled forward, eyes shining.

“Did you see the world? Have you learned _everything_?”

Riku smiled. “Not everything. Not by a long shot.” And as for ‘ _world'_ , singular, well...

He shifted, kneeling before him.

“But here’s something I have,” he confided. He glanced at the little girl behind him, who was looking curiously between the pair of them. “It’s okay to want to be strong. But be careful that you don’t forget the reason why. Promise?”

The boy nodded, eyes round, and Riku produced his coin from the ether, dropping it into his palm with a flourish. Grinning, the boy scampered excitedly back to the girl, hands waving as he tried his best to replicate the trick.

Practical magic, Riku thought, shaking his head. Wait until he saw the rest.

After a long moment, Riku felt a hand settle on his shoulder.

“The reason why,” the old woman echoed, her voice faraway. She sighed, and the skin of her knuckles blanched pale with her tightened hold. “Then you will go looking for him? And nothing will stop you?”

“Of course,” Riku said, looking up to meet her eyes evenly. There was no other option, no other answer.

She squeezed once, and let go. “Good.”

“Good?” Riku echoed, in disbelief, scrambling to his feet to follow her.

She gave a short, tight nod, clapping her hands together briskly.

“Now then, stubborn boy,” she said, good humor suffusing her voice, “You will _rest_. Your journey begins tomorrow, and you will undertake it with a good night’s sleep and a solid breakfast in you. You will take warm clothes too, and good boots.” She held up a hand. “I won’t hear any refusals. I still have some of my son’s. They will be old, but they were made well- I should know. They will suit you.”

Her hands settled on his shoulders, brushing the wrinkles from his jacket.

“You have eyes just like his,” she said, considering. “Like my grandson’s, too. I hope he will be like you some day.”

Riku swallowed, eyes to the ground. His hands tightened into fists at his side.

Harrumphing, she shook him. “Now, I do not like the look of that! You must take care of yourself first, if you plan on saving anyone. What will you see if you refuse to look ahead? You’ll find yourself buried in snow in no time, and that won’t do at all. Keep your head high.”

She draped the blanket around his shoulders again, this time politely ignoring his own wet eyes, and took his elbow once more. “Say goodnight, children. Gerda, I will walk you next door after I show our guest to his room. You can come back in the morning.”

They chorused their goodnights after him obediently as he let himself be led up the stairs. He sat on the very edge of the bed, still struggling to control his watering eyes, as she produced a nightshirt and fresh linens for him. “My son’s old room,” she explained, as she handed them over. He accepted gratefully, and opened his mouth, uncertain of what else he could say besides ‘thank you’, but she cut in before he could make any more graceless attempts, pulling the door shut as she wished him a simple and fond ‘ _good night_ ’.

He slept fitfully at first, feeling as though the the woods were watching him through the windows, and each tap of the branches on the panes of glass were clawed fingers, the woman’s words still ringing in his ears- but the exhaustion of the day took him, and he settled into a peaceful, dreamless sleep until dawn rose over the tree-tops, kissing a landscape that glittered with snow. She’d been right- he felt well rested, and ready to take on the world.  

The old woman collected him for a light breakfast shortly after, promising to lay out clothes for him upstairs while the children chattered away at him about magic and adventures and pennies and everything they were learning in their school books. He hummed along, offering his own stories in return. The morning passed quickly after that, full of preparations- he was swept up in the flurry of them, like a snowflake in yesterday’s winds. They were a good distraction from his own head and all the feelings that swirled inside- his overwhelming gratitude toward the old woman and her little family, the anxiety that told him to be on his way already, the sinking fear at the knowledge that Sora was in very real danger.

“You will need as much daylight as you can manage,” the old woman said, laying out leggings, a undershirt, thick wool pants, a sweater, a coat which fastened with toggles, a fur-lined cap and warm mittens. He boggled at them; there were more layers than he’d ever worn in his life. “Dress. I will go prepare some food for the journey.”

He obeyed, closing the door after her. Stripping and dressing quickly, he rolled his own clothes into a bundle, which he tucked under his arm. Fingers itching, he made his bed too, tucking the corners in neatly, and finally went back down to the kitchen to help.

“Isn’t there something I can do for you?” Riku wondered, about a half hour later, as he stood by the door. She handed him a sturdy pair of boots and a large satchel, shaking her head all the while. “You didn’t have to help me. I can-”

“There are more important things than tidying a kitchen or splitting logs, and you’ve taught my grandson magic besides. It will entertain him for days.” She winked, then grew more solemn as she looked over him. “I’m only glad to be a small part of such a tale. Take heart.” She pressed a trembling hand to his cheek. “Save your friend.”

Moved, his heart full, he reached out to wrap her in a quick hug. She squeezed back, laughing.

“There is a stream that wraps around this village,” she said, pulling back, and pressed a bag filled with wrapped packages of various foods into his hands, instructing him to put it in his satchel and sling its weight across his back. “I’m sure you’ve seen it. Follow its current to the north. And be wary of those you find along the way from now on. You do not know who you can trust.”

With that, she patted his cheek once more, pressed a papery kiss to it, and sent him on his way. The little girl and boy hung behind her skirts, waving and shouting their goodbyes as well, seeing him off into the bright morning light.

He followed the path she’d pointed out to him, through the thickest, liveliest part of the village all the way to its opposite side, where the crush of houses trickled into open fields, and the path veered off towards the mountains. There was another signpost waiting, at the village’s edge, the same symbols carved into it as the last one he’d seen.

_Good luck_ , he thought, touching its face. It had already served him well. Good luck, again, and goodbye, too. He turned his head back to the village once more, thinking on the three he’d met, and was horrified to realize he couldn’t remember their names.

“I never asked,” he chided himself. He took their food, clothes, and shelter, but never bothered to learn their names. He knew the woman had said them, knew he’d heard, but he couldn’t remember what they were now for the life of him, and he’d never even offered his own. He picked at the sleeves of his new jacket, brow furrowing. “Maybe I am as rude as that crow says.”

Next time, he told himself. If he passed through again, he’d thank them properly. Sora would probably like to meet them too, if he hadn’t already- Riku had a feeling that he’d fit right in. He always did.

Riku set the thought aside for later. For now, the north beckoned, and the Snow Queen’s castle with it.

He shouldered his bag, and set his soles on the path to the river.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been able to stop staring at these sketches with A Heart Full of Love and watery eyes since I saw them: [ahhhHHH](https://tmblr.co/ZpLkCx2bsIXHz) i can't thank you enough, it's saved to my phone and i look at it an embarrassing amount of a lot. and once again, thank you for looking this over!! 
> 
> today's mood music is 'a window to the past' from the prisoner of azkaban ost! john williams is a Legend
> 
> cya for the next one!! hopefully sooner, ahhhh

**Author's Note:**

> alt summary: riku shouts "move i'm gay" at a book 
> 
> HEY SO i've been (re)playing through the series and oh man, dream drop distance not ONLY gave me Riku POV but also him totally being Sora's knight in shining armor, and my brain said: My Brand!! and This Drink, I Like It, ANOTHER!! so here we are
> 
> I had a few go-to songs while writing, but this absolutely lovely arrangement of Riku's theme was on loop for a lot of it: [(can't you just hear the snow falling?)](https://youtu.be/vaNyq6-twqc)


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